


Bad Night

by HumanTrampoline



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Cuddling & Snuggling, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 12:55:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4626099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HumanTrampoline/pseuds/HumanTrampoline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s not going to bother with code names, not when Eggsy showed up out of nowhere looking half-drowned and half-wild. “Eggsy just showed up on my doorstep looking bloody awful.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Night

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings! This work has been inspired by the lovely Kaciart, you may find the post here:
> 
> http://kaciart.tumblr.com/post/122374446613
> 
> Thank you for reading! Comments are love!

Harry studies him intently from just inside his doorway. Eggsy knows he looks like the last dregs of a bad night, he feels it too, but right now he doesn’t give a shit. The rain water stings as it runs over the cuts on his face, drips from the abrasions on his knuckles. The bruises littering his body are throbbing in time with every heartbeat. It’s all immaterial to seeing Harry, _alive, Harry’s alive,_ with his own eyes.

_He jerks awake in the dark, the air here is wet and heavy. His head is pounding, doing its level best to split in two. He knows he’s been drugged; the sluggish response times and nausea are unmistakable. He swears under his breath. Going off grid and getting captured were part of the plan. Getting drugged was not._

He’s expecting a glib comment, a smart remark about the time of night, or maybe the weather or the mission. Instead, Harry’s expression shifts from assessing to what looks like understanding, then he’s reaching out and pulling Eggsy in off the stoop. “Are you trying to catch your death of cold?” His voice is fond, the warmth of his hands bleeding through the damp of Eggsy’s shirt. “I’m hoping you don’t expect me to believe Medical released you looking like this. Did you at least check in?”

Eggsy shakes his head. “Debrief’s tomorrow. Arthur said I should get some sleep.” He’s dripping water on Harry’s rug and it’s almost midnight. Harry’s not even supposed to know he was out on a mission, something about ‘low levels of stress during his recovery’, but Eggsy’s here all the same. He couldn’t stay away, not after-

_There’s blood on the ground and a body in his cell. There’s a gun in his hand. Something- something’s not right, sounds are too loud, the lights are too bright. He reaches out with a shaking hand to turn the body over..._

“Eggsy?”

There’s a hand on his shoulder again; Harry’s peering at him over his glasses, the concern unmistakable on his face. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, sorry, I just.” He bites his lip, considers telling Harry exactly what happened. “Things just went… bad, wasn’t expectin’ it.”

His answer doesn’t seem to placate Harry but thankfully he doesn’t push. “Why don’t you go take a shower? I’ll find you some dry clothes and we’ll get those cuts looked after.”

Eggsy nods and makes his way upstairs, towards the guest bath. His mind is still whirring from the mission’s events but the adrenaline is starting to wear off. Maybe after a shower and sleep things won’t be as awful.

_Harry, the body is Harry. Eggsy drops to his knees and fights down the incredible urge to vomit. “This isn’t real- it can’t be. Come on, Gareth, snap out of it.” His words feel like ash in his mouth though, and the body is still there. Harry’s blank expression still staring up at him. He loses the battle with his first instinct, and bile joins the blood on the floor._

\---

After he’s slipped in and out of the guest bath leaving behind a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, both of which will be hopelessly long on Eggsy’s smaller frame, he steps into the office to make a call.

“Good evening, Galahad. To what do I owe the pleasure of this late night conversation?”

Arthur sounds as she usually does: smooth, clear, and completely unperturbed.

“Cora.” He’s not going to bother with code names, not when Eggsy showed up out of nowhere looking half-drowned and half-wild. “Eggsy just showed up on my doorstep looking bloody awful.”

“Oh, did he.” She doesn't sound surprised in the least, damn her.

“Is there a reason you didn't have him report to medical?”  

“Tristan reported in ahead, said they'd sustained only minor injuries but it was likely that Gareth had been exposed to some form of hallucinogen.” Her tone takes on the softer edges he remembers from their time in training. “Agents need something grounding and familiar after those kinds of encounters, you know this. He's a remarkable agent but I don't think he considers HQ with the highest regard yet. I told him to go home and get some rest.” Harry tries not to think about what it means that his home is the first place Eggsy comes to when he’s in search of somewhere safe. Tries and fails.

“And what happened to my ‘need-to-know’ basis?”

“Harry, we need you back in the field. You’re an excellent agent and we’re very shorthanded, so anything we can do to speed your recovery is paramount.” She takes a breath and Harry has the distinct impression that she’s gearing up for something like a fight. “That being said, that young man needs you as well. Possibly even more so than we do.”

Harry’s heart skips a few beats. “Cora, please don't encourage-”

“Harry Augustus Hart, if the next words out of your mouth have to do with your age-” And now they’re talking over each other, much as they’ve always done.

“I’m nearly old enough to be his _grandfather_ , Cora, it hardly makes for a-”

“I’ve never known you to stand on propriety. Are you going to try and tell me Benjamin was a mistake too?”

That brings Harry up short. “You’ve been talking to Merlin.”

“Among others.”

Harry suppresses a sigh. “Benjamin _was_ a mistake- if we hadn’t been involved he would have never been at that station.” Harry still aches a little to think of him. Ben had been studying theater, a shaft of light in Harry’s grey world. Gone quickly, and long before his time.

“You can’t know that, Harry. I’ve seen the way Eggsy looks at you, the way you are around him. For once in your life, let yourself be happy.”

He can hear the pipes rattle as the water for Eggsy’s shower shuts off.

“I’ll take it under advisement,” he says, and hangs up. There’s a first-aid kit and arnica cream he should be fetching from downstairs.

\---

When Harry makes it back to the top of the stairs, the door to the guest bath is open, warm air pouring out into the hall. Calling after Eggsy gets no response; he stops in the doorway of the bathroom, dismayed at what he finds. Eggsy’s managed to towel himself mostly dry and put on the clothes left out but now he’s standing in front of the mirror, rubbing his right hand across the knuckles of his left. His expression is almost unreadable, save for the edge of panic in his eyes. Harry can see that what were only minor abrasions before are now rubbed almost entirely raw. Cora’s words about ‘grounding and familiar’ echo in his head, and his heart clenches. He sets the kit and the cream down on the countertop.

“Eggsy.”

Eggsy blinks, meets his eyes in the mirror, but the motion of his hands continues. Harry reaches for him, gently runs a hand down Eggsy’s right forearm and circles his wrist, keeps his tone soft. “Stop that, dear boy.”

The physical contact seems to re-focus him; he drops his hands away from each other, and Harry’s hold, with a mumbled apology. Harry wants to say it’s alright, wants Eggsy to know he understands: pain can be a useful reminder of where you are and the things you’ve faced. The words get stuck in his throat though. The overwhelming thought is _Please don’t. Don’t do yourself harm._ It’s something he’s going to have to face, sooner or later, this overwhelming need to see Eggsy safe. He knows their line of work won’t allow it. His instincts will have to be curbed, smoothed along another, more useful path. He feels no shame in admitting that path scares him, is filled with things he’s never really known how to do. He could start here with giving Eggsy the care he clearly needs and doesn’t know how to ask for.

Harry takes a breath and decides _Fuck it._ He’s thrown caution to the wind for far less. He gestures for Eggsy to move closer, cups a hand under his chin as he does so.

“The cuts on your face look better, for the most part. This one under your ear may need some butterfly stitches.”

It’s a nasty gash, a few centimeters long, probably responsible for the majority of blood on Eggsy’s collar earlier. The edges are clean though and line up perfectly once Harry has the strips applied. “Someone come at you with a knife?”

“Switchblade. Thought we’d disarmed ‘em all an’ Tristan had knocked him out but he came back up swinging. We got him the second time ‘round.” Eggsy’s tone is stiff, there’s still tension in his expression. Harry has the distinct impression of entering a minefield.

“It’s not uncommon,” Harry says, and switches subjects in an attempt to tread lightly. “The arnica can wait til morning but we should get some kind of dressing on your knuckles. Sleep wouldn’t be remiss, either.”

Eggsy half shrugs and offers up his hands. “Only if you’ll do the wraps. Never saw much point in it before.” Harry briefly wonders how many times constitute ‘before’, and decides not knowing is probably best for his flash-fire temper.

Eggsy’s hands are trembling as Harry starts applying the ointment to his knuckles and wrapping them with gauze. By the time he finishes tying off the last wrap, they are full on shaking. He steadies them with his own, looks up into Eggsy’s eyes. Eggsy’s gone pale, and is currently staring at Harry as though he may disappear at any second. _Oh, piss it,_ Harry thinks. So much for subtlety.

“Eggsy, what _happened_ out there? I don’t mean to pry, but you can always-”

“You were dead ‘n I thought I’d killed you.” The words come tumbling out and his voice wobbles. _Hallucinogens._ The spectre of V-Day, as ever, hanging over their heads. “They- they drugged me and I saw things, and you-” He cuts himself off, looks away. Harry doesn’t know if he’s trying to hide his emotions, or if he’s simply ashamed, but he doesn’t particularly care. Neither option will do.

He lays an arm around Eggsy’s shoulders and pulls him close, rubs a slow circle between his shoulder blades. There’s a hitch in Eggsy’s breathing but he buries his face in Harry’s chest, wraps his arms around him as though holding on to a lifeline.

“I’m here, Eggsy. I’m right here.”

\---

Harry’s words, comforting though they are, do very little to help Eggsy’s nerves. The physical proximity is steadying, his warmth and his smell, a heartbeat in his ear, but Eggsy still feels like he’s just a breath away from losing it completely. He can’t stop seeing it in his mind’s eye, Harry still as the grave on the floor of his cell. Can’t stop hearing that fucking gunshot as it echoed through the office and then the all-consuming silence that followed his own scream. Days of silence in Eggsy’s mind, days of replaying their last argument over and over, so sure that his last words to Harry had been a half-assed promise to atone for yet another mistake.

He realizes he’s biting down on sobs, still shaking in Harry’s hold. Harry’s keeping up a litany, his voice a mellow tone at the edge of Eggsy’s consciousness. He catches a few things, Harry asking him to breathe with him is one, and Eggsy tries his level best. As awareness starts to sharpen, he pulls away and Harry’s arms around him turn into simply a hand at his elbow, steering him towards the guest room. Past the threshold, Harry at his back, and Eggsy sits on the edge of the bed with all the grace of an unstrung marionette.

“‘m sorry, y’know.” His voice is a little hoarse now.

The head tilt he gets in response is answer enough, but Harry continues with “You don’t need-”

Eggsy waves him off. “No, I don’t- If I don’t say this now, I might never, there’ll be some other mission or some great end of the world and I just can’t-” He takes a breath, tries to get enough air to keep his head above water. He knows he’s about to unravel it all but figures it’s better now, with Harry, to let it all fall apart. His mum and Roxy and Merlin can put him back together again, after the inevitable crash and burn, but he can’t live his days with this weight in his chest.

“I love you.” He looks up at Harry, meets his eyes. “I’m apologizin’ cause I should’ve said it sooner, should’ve said it the day you came back, cause you almost died ‘n it was like my world ended and I hadn’t even known why at the time, but then Arthur made some comment about bein’ your ‘young man’ and she meant just that you’d recommended me but all I could think was I wanted to be yours and-” A beat. Two. This next bit’s the worst part, cause it’s the part where reality comes crashing in.

Harry’s hand on the side of his neck, gentle and grounding. “And?"

He drops his head, eyes his toes where they’re dug in the carpet, then closes his eyes. “And I’m apologizin’ cause what’d someone like you ever want with a fuck-up like me.”

Harry’s hand moves away and there’s silence then, save for the rustle of fabric. Eggsy steels himself for all the awkwardness to come, the pity and explanations.

“My boy, my darling boy.” Harry’s voice is so much closer now, and when Eggsy opens his eyes, Harry’s kneeling on the ground in front of him, expression gentle. His hands come up and frame his face, thumbs brush against Eggsy’s cheekbones, feather light. “You are nothing less than extraordinary.”

The air between them seems to hang for a moment; surely Harry can’t be saying what Eggsy’s hearing. Harry must see the disbelief on his face because his expression folds, a crease forming between his eyebrows. He moves from his place on the floor, sits next to Eggsy on the bed.

“I’m afraid I owe you an apology as well. There are things I should have said months ago, should have told you the moment I set foot back in London.” There’s a huff of self-deprecating laughter. “You would expect that people in our line of work would know the value of opportunity, know how dear life is and how quickly chances can be ripped away. Instead I find that I’m as much a coward as the next; terrified that in telling the truth I will somehow lose something precious to me.” Harry meets his eyes and Eggsy’s shocked to recognize the look on his face. It’s the same expression he’s seen in the mirror since Harry’s return, the look of a man desperately in love, scared shitless but fueled by wild hope.

“Beloved, you’ve had my heart almost since I’ve known you. I’m so sorry I’ve lead you to doubt that for so long.”

When Harry wraps his arms around him, Eggsy goes willingly. He tucks his head underneath Harry’s chin, reminds himself to breathe. “You really mean it.” It’s not a question, not really, but Eggsy can’t help the need to hear it again.

Harry’s lips press against his forehead briefly and the words that follow are spoken into his skin. “With all that’s left within me.”

At that, Eggsy feels the last sinews of tension start to ease inside him. Harry’s here, solid and real beside him, not dead by Eggsy’s hand or rotting in a grave with Valentine to thank for it. All the fear and anxiety of the last twelve hours fade, and in their place comes an easy peace. They sit in silence for a time, simply breathing each other in. Eggsy’s eyelids grow heavy and his own hold on Harry begins to slacken as sleep pulls at his mind. Harry reaches up the bed and turns the covers down, then stands, pulling Eggsy up with him.

“Come on, in you go.” There’s a hint of amusement in his tone. Eggsy does as he’s asked, shuffles into bed, but the fingers of his left hand remain tangled in Harry’s robe. There’s a chuckle as Harry pulls free, and then the warmth of a hand against his face, brushing the hair from his eyes.

"Sleep, Eggsy. I'll be here when you wake."

 

 


End file.
